Anytime Grandfather Weaver's name came up, someone always mentioned his hunting trips. Then someone else would add that the trips were written up in the Talladega newspaper. That is about all I ever knew about these hunting events. Those newspaper articles could not be found, but the legend lived on in the family story-telling.
I am not a hunter, but over the years I have learned that I do come from a long line of hunters. My father hunted. He told me a great story about hunting pheasants on the property of the Chambord chateau in France. He passed that interest on to my brother, Thomas, and over the years they had memorable hunting experiences. I only saw the fruits of a hunting trip once when my father and my Godfather came home with some ducks. I looked over their shoulders at the little things and ran into my room crying. I just did not understand!
Then when I had children, Thomas wanted to teach my boys about how to hunt in a safe and responsible way. He and my son, William, took the hunting safety course. Thomas took William into the woods, and William was bitten by the Hunting Bug! William says today that Uncle Thomas was a great teacher, and he had 2 or 3 trips to the woods with Thomas before he was ever even allowed to hold a gun. I am very thankful to Thomas for making safety the first lesson in learning to hunt. Today I have a son-in-law that loves to hunt. He is also a very safe and responsible hunter.
The best way I can explain my attitude about hunting is this: My head understands the importance of responsible hunting, but my heart gets a little too involved.
Now in the 21st century, the Weaver family finds the long-lost articles about the famous hunting trips into the mountains of Talladega and Clay counties. Great-grandfather Weaver's scrapbook contains several along with some pictures taken in front of a cabin.
So Family Trails followers, let's begin our trail this week with two very interesting and very descriptive articles.
Sisson Weaver enjoying a warm afternoon in Netties's rose garden.
From the articles that Grandfather Weaver saved, it seems that there were at least 14 annual hunting trips. This article was written after the eight hunting trip. Since the type is so small, I'll retype for the
Family Trails readers.
The Annual Hunt of Weaver and Waters
Messrs. C. S. Weaver and W. J. Waters for eight successive years have been accustomed to gather up their dogs and guns and with a few invited friends hie themselves off to the mountains some sixteen miles southeast of the city for a camp and hunt. Here, amidst the most beautiful scenery, pure sparkling mountain streams, exhilarating atmosphere and plenty of game, they have a delightful outing. This year the party consisted of C. S. Weaver,
W. J. Waters, R. G. Nickles, W. D. Davis, W. C. Wilson,
A. R. Stroud, O. L. Trammell, A. A. Mashman and J. M. Thomas, and a more cheerful , agreeable and thorough-going party of hunters is seldom gotten together.
Cooks have often had better facilities for preparing and serving meals, but none ever had the pleasure of serving with a better sauce than that furnished in the appetites produced by these mountain tramps. How did they eat! One was made to wonder how any person without an appetite did really feel, and what must be the sensation of those who suffered with indigestion.
At the close of the three days the general bag was found to have contained ninety-five pieces, counting rabbits, birds, opossums, fifty-seven squirrels, and two snakes.
Everybody came away highly delighted and with many thanks to Messrs. Weaver and Waters for their many kindnesses and efficiency in the giving of this most enjoyable occasion.
written by J. M. Thomas
C. S. Weaver, The Farmers' Friend
Claims Nimrod Championship of Talladega County
Bag's Big Catamount
by Wellington Vandiver
Talladega November 27-(Special)
One wild cat, 'possums, 12 squirrels, six rabbits, and seven quail, making a grand total of 27, represented the amount of game strung all over the person of a Talladega hunter as he stood on the corner of North and East Street to be photographed at 9 o'clock this morning. The proud possessor these results of field sports wore a game bag holding about six pecks emblazoned with the legend, "C. S. Weaver, the Farmers' Friend"- a broad smile, a derby hat- and proudly carried on his shoulder a single-barrelled shotgun with a bore like a wash pot. His collar was off, his neckband was loose and so was his tongue and the mob around him hung open-eyed on his nervous sentences. "I flung off and drug that wild cat out'en the briers close to my native soil-shot him six times-socked it to him with squirrel shot-ain't he a whopper? I don't claim all the credit for shooting' him-I just drug him out. Gents, you may make fun of this gun-I sell those kind at $5-but these here are the results! It ain't the gun-it's the man behind the gun that gets the meat." And the proud nimrod would move on to another spot,only to be followed by a mob of admiring citizens and jealous hunters who propounded sundry leading questions as to who he bought the game from and what kind of trap did he catch the balance of the game in,etc. Envy always follows the truly great in any walk of life! Twenty-nine trophies in one day is the field record of Mr. C. S. Weaver, the Southside merchant, and until some of the amateur, pin-feather, ping-pong hunters of the Birmingham district come up to this record a proud community insists that Talladega's nimrod is entitled to the championship.
The catamount was two feet high, 36 inches in length and weighed 18 pounds.
It might just be very interesting to find out who the "amateur, pin-feather, ping-pong hunters of the Birmingham district" really were! I may have gone to school with their great-grandchildren!
